


Summertime Rose Tequila Sangria

by afteriwake



Series: A Thousand Different Lives [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - College/University, American Irene Adler, Cocktail Waitress Irene, College Student Molly, Drinking & Talking, Essays, F/F, First Meetings, Flirting, Gentlemen's Club, Going Home Together, Irene's Past, Molly Can Hold Her Liquour, Nicknames, POV Irene Adler, Surprised Irene, cheek kisses, surprised Molly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 03:54:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10209062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: Izzy meets a woman at the club where she's a cocktail waitress who sticks out like a sore thumb, considering it's a gentlemen's club. But when she takes her order for drinks she finds Molly to be a surprise...one that continues to unfold and might even do so after hours, if she's lucky.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sideofrawr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sideofrawr/gifts), [melody1987](https://archiveofourown.org/users/melody1987/gifts).



> So this fic was picked by **sideofrawr** for my Femslash February claims, and is inspired by a prompt from ****at Tumblr (" _i work in a pub by campus and am becoming increasingly concerned about the girl who’s on her second pitcher and has an essay due at 7 tonight_ ") that I tweaked slightly. Today **melody1987** asked for a Mollrene fic for my countdown to my 850th Sherlock fic/1,300th fic on AO3 milestones but I didn't have any unclaimed prompts so they're sharing this one. Hope you both enjoy!
> 
> P.S. - This fic is inspired by [an actual drink you can make at home](https://www.halfbakedharvest.com/summertime-rose-tequila-sangria/).

It was not often you saw a woman...well, more like a girl...like her at a place like this, Irene thought to herself as she studied the petite female at her table. Long brown hair pulled back in a messy ponytail that was starting to come loose around her face, daisy print jumper that was probably a bit threadbare and definitely a size too big, khaki pants, sensible shoes…

The stack of textbooks and sheets of loose leaf paper next to her indicated that she, unlike everyone else here for the evening, was _not_ here to mingle.

But why come to what essentially amounted to a gentlemen’s club to do schoolwork?

She moved forward to her, knowing her skimpy little outfit was probably going to be wasted. She didn’t expect the girl to order big or tip well, either, not with the second-hand look. “Miss?” she asked, putting on her classiest accent to hide the American one that still plagued her at times. Eventually, she’d get the posh British tones till they were second nature. “What will you be having this evening?”

“The strongest pitcher of sangria you have. And I mean pitcher, not glass. Continuously refilled.” She didn’t look up from her writing. “I promise, I’ll tip well. Better than most of these blokes. And I won’t expect you to shag me.”

Well, Izzy had to smile at that. It was a refreshing change from being pawed at. She wasn’t quite elegant enough to consort with the gentlemen, so it didn’t stop the cheeky pissants who didn’t get lucky from taking a chance with her. Not that she was interested; while she would occasionally swing both ways, her preference was towards the feminine. She had been told that would be an asset here. Maybe it would, maybe it wouldn’t, but she had her sights set higher. Higher than this place. “Do you trust me?”

This got the girl to look up. She really did have a pretty face, even if she wasn’t a classic beauty. Pretty eyes, too. She nodded slowly. “Are you a bartender?”

“Let’s just say I know my way around a strong drink,” she said. “I’ll mix up something better than the house swill.”

This got a smile. “Thank you…?”

“Izzy. Well, Irene on the job, but you look like you could use Izzy tonight.”

The girl smiled even wider. “Molly,” she said.

“Pleasure to meet you, then. Give me a few, and I’ll be back with the strong stuff.”

**\---**

_Two goddamn pitchers and she was still writing legibly._

Izzy was surprised. She’d been making this sangria for years, her drink of choice on hot summer days in Arizona when she could smile at the local boys and get everything she needed with a few kisses and some hurried pawing and a for grunts. Not like her parents cared; they’d given up on her young, said she was a hellion and she should just go raise hell and leave them in peace. Couches had made do for a time, occasionally a bed for a time when she could hustle enough money for a motel room or someone felt charitable, but it wasn’t what she’d wanted.

Sangria was the drink she had in the desert; gin and tonic was her drink of choice now.

But even _she_ was more than a bit shitfaced after a pitcher. Two and still coherent? She should be worried.

She went over to the table where Molly was sitting and, after hesitating a moment, sat down. It was against the regulations but she really didn’t think they’d give a damn if a customer keeled over from alcohol poisoning. “Molly, hun, you’ve had two pitchers of my Summertime Rose Tequila Sangria,” she said, knowing full well her British accent had dropped. “It isn’t even _cold_ because you told me not to add ice or let it chill. How on _Earth_ are you still coherent?”

She looked up and grinned the widest, sweetest grin Izzy had ever seen. “I’m pre-med. Tequila is like water. This is just taking the edge off of the panic at this essay I have due in...” She glanced at the watch on her wrist. “An hour.”

Izzy raised an eyebrow. “What bastard of a professor has you turn in an essay at seven in the evening?”

“One who has a shriveled up cold little heart. And no sex life. She’s probably frigid as the North Pole.”

Izzy chuckled at that. “Especially since it’s only Wednesday.”

Molly nodded, looking at her glass. “I suppose that first pitcher would have tasted better cold. Glad the second one had chilled.”

Izzy tapped the side of her head. “I do have more than just a stunning set of legs.”

“Brains and beauty. You’re lucky; I just got brains,” Molly said before having more of her drink.

“I think you’re pretty,” Izzy said. “You’re not my usual type, but I wouldn’t mind taking you home tonight.”

This appeared to throw Molly for a loop. “I thought you were here to please men.”

“Not my job, yet. I just serve them drinks and get my ass pinched.”

She blushed. “I’ve never had anyone who isn’t family tell me I’m pretty before.”

“Never?” Izzy said, surprised. Honestly, in better clothes, she would be extremely attractive. With make-up, she’d have to beat people away with a stick. “Maybe you just hadn’t been around the right people before.”

“Maybe I hadn’t,” she said with a smile. She picked up one of the pieces of strawberry in the drink and ate it. “My final grade depends partly on this essay.”

“I shouldn’t distract you, then,” Izzy said, starting to get up.

“Do you think if I come back after turning this in, you might have a pitcher of sangria ready for me?” Molly asked.

“I may be able to whip up something better at my place,” she said coyly.

“Then it’s a date,” Molly said.

Izzy leaned forward and brushed her lips on Molly’s cheek. “It’s a date.”


End file.
